


Comfort

by lajulie



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Drabble, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 05:52:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17843672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lajulie/pseuds/lajulie
Summary: Han and Leia take turns taking care of each other after a nightmare. Originally posted as "A Place to Rest" and "Hold Me" for Scoundress Saturday on Tumblr, in response to individual drabble requests in the form "I wish you would write a fic where..."





	1. A Place to Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to a request from @lunaachic: "I wish you could write a fic where Han comforts Leia after a bad nightmare that brings her to tears." Set pre-ESB.

Leia hated this. Absolutely hated it.

She hated that she felt so naked here, so exposed. Despite her warm nightclothes, the blanket she was clutching around her, she was still shivering a little.

 _Where did the blanket come from? He must have brought it,_ she thought.

She especially hated the salt she could feel now, the tear tracks drying on her cheeks. The evidence that she’d cried in front of him.

She’d done worse than that, actually. Sobbed, wept, come back to consciousness with her head buried in his shoulder and his arms wrapped around her, his voice low and comforting in her ear: _You’re okay, Leia, just a dream. ‘M here, Sweetheart, you’re safe now. ‘S okay._

She hated that it had felt so good to rest there for a few moments, to let his voice draw her back to her bunk on the _Falcon_ , to the Rebellion, to life. Away from the nightmare, the explosion, the terrified screams of millions in her head. It had been somehow a collective terror and an individual one all at once; like a stadium of people shouting, the voices of her loved ones ringing out above the din. She’d heard her parents clearly this time, holding each other, their last thoughts of her: _Leia, love, we’ll see you soon_.

And she wouldn’t be there, waiting for them in the Force like they thought. They’d all gone ahead, left her here. All alone.

Well, not completely alone. She could hear Han moving around in the galley now, the whistle of the hot water kettle stopping almost just after it began. He was trying to be quiet.

He’d offered her a cup of tea, she remembered now, given her a minute to collect herself once she’d calmed down. Though he hadn’t said it that way. _You good here for a minute? ‘M getting a cup of tea, I’ll make you one._ Committed, not offered.

She brought the blanket to her nose and breathed in. It smelled like him, like the shoulder of his shirt she’d wet with her tears and snot just a few minutes ago. It smelled _good_ , familiar. She breathed it in again.

 _What in nine hells are you doing, Organa_ , she scolded herself. _He’s going to catch you sniffing his damned blanket and you are never going to hear the end of it._

The naked feeling returned. She lowered the blanket, but pulled it closer around her.

Just then, Han returned, a steaming mug in each hand. “Cold?” he asked. His smile was still the gentle one, not the smirk. “This ‘ll warm you up.”

“Thanks,” she said, reaching out to take the mug. As she took a sip, he sat down carefully beside her on the bunk.

Leia wasn’t sure what to say, so she concentrated on her tea. He’d made the herbal blend she preferred at night, just the way she liked it: piping hot, with a bit of honey mixed in. She wrapped her hands around the mug, let the anise linger on her tongue for a minute before looking over at Han.

His long limbs were folded up awkwardly around him, and his hair was a mess, sticking out in all directions. He was looking down at his mug, too, as if he were afraid of staring at her, invading her privacy. As if she really _were_ naked.

Then he caught her looking at him, and smiled. Again, not the smirk, but a little more confident than his look a minute ago. He shifted his mug to his right hand, and opened his left arm toward her, like he was offering her a place to rest.

She scooted toward him, and took it.


	2. Hold Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to an ask from @hanorganaas: "I wish you would write a fic with 'little spoon' Han Solo." Post-ROTJ.

For a long time, Han didn’t even think of them as nightmares at all. They were just bad moments, vestiges of the state of being he’d known for six months. Flashes of the void, the nothingness.

Tonight had been worse. Paralysis. Couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think, except to recall the snatches of thoughts that had followed him into the carbonite: _Leia. Love. Protect. I know. Sorry_. Breathing so shallow, it was like no breath at all.

Han opened his eyes in the darkness, still immobile. Even in the middle of the night, he could recognize the shapes and shadows of their bedroom. He tried to make his thoughts work: _just a dream, only a dream_. But he remained frozen in their bed.

Call it their bond, their language; call it the Force; call it whatever you’d like, but somehow Leia heard him, found him. Now he heard something more than the pounding of his blood in his ears: he heard her breathing, heard her stir and shift on the bed.

“Han?” she asked. He blinked in the dark, not moving. He wanted to move, but the feeling still gripped him, stopped him. The fear.

He felt her hand grasp his, and he began to release, to unfreeze. He turned his head to see her face in the dark. Her brows were furrowed with concern.

“Leia,” he said, finally, and his saw her face relax, though the concern didn’t leave.

“Bad dream?” she asked. Normally it was him asking her this question, and she said it in the same way he always tried to say it to her, like it was no big deal, even if she’d just been thrashing and screaming in her bed.

Han nodded. “Like—nothing,” he tried to explain. He was capable of words again, but they felt inadequate to express this feeling he’d had.

She put a hand to his cheek, like she understood, could read him clearly. She still asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied. _Or I will be._

She sat up. “Want anything? Glass of water?”

“Nah. Just—just stay for a minute. Few minutes. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. She smoothed the hair back from his temple, still watching him. Then she seemed to decide something.

“Is it okay if I hold you?” she asked carefully, and Han recalled how he’d said the same thing to her sometimes, on nights where she needed his presence to find sleep again. 

He nodded, and she moved to the other side of him, wrapping her body around him. She was so small, especially compared to him, but somehow that didn’t matter. He felt comfort surround and warm him, felt the realness of her, right here with him.

He took her hand in his, brought both to rest over his chest. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

Leia snuggled closer. “I’ve always wanted to be the big spoon,” she said, and they went back to sleep.


End file.
